Lost in the Darkness
by TheSilenceListens
Summary: AU:Spike has struggled with the memories of his beloved wifes death for over 100yrs and is ready to make it all stop. He just needs the slayer. Buffy, who dreams each night of what she belives is a past potential slayers life.


_**Disclaimer: **_I, Urbana Bloodstone, do not own the righst to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it belongs to the one and only Joss Whedon (the most brilliant man in the intire universe)

**Lost in the Darkness**

A _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _fan fiction

by Urbana Bloodstone

* * *

Prologue:

London, England. 1880

The soft autumn wind blows William's brown curls out of place and nips at the exposed skin of his face and hands. Though it chills him and sets his appearance into a state of disarray, William remains unmoved by any and all factors of the present time. As he stands on the ledge of the church bell tower eight stories above London, he stares down at the cobble stone street with all its pedestrians and carriages, but his state of mind is focused on another time entirely.

A few nights prior two lives very dear to William had been taken from him. One had been his beloved wife-whom he loved more than anything else in this world-the other he had not yet had the chance to meet. His wife had gone into labor a few weeks earlier than the doctor had expected and ran into more than a few complications. He was meant to gain a life that night, but instead lost two.

Somehow, a piece of present time so close to him now-unlike the faded noises from the street below-manages to tare William out of his miserable thoughts of the past and into the lonely present.

The wooden stairs leading up to where William stands at the top of the bell tower creak loudly under the weight of someone who obviously wants to make their presence known. The footsteps stop shortly after their maker reaches the last step, and for a while there is nothing but silence, leaving William to wonder if he imagined them. But then, finally, someone speaks.

"It seems to me ironic that a man lookin' to take his own life, a sin against The Lord, would do so at a church." The lower class Irish accent seems out of place in the heart of London as it reaches William's ears. "This leaves me wonderin' what sort of tragedy could lead a man to grow such a fury against The Lord?"

A strong sickening and irritated feeling arises in the pit of William's being as the stranger's words force the painful memories to play so vividly again before his stinging, bloodshot eyes. Tears spill down his check once more and a lump forms in his throat, but he somehow manages to speak around it, slowly turning his head to the right so that the stranger behind him can hear his solemn reply. "I do not see how it is of any business to you." There is a beat of silence before William turns his head back to face the streets of London below him. "Piss off!" He mumbles under his breath, sure that the stranger cannot hear him when he has his back to him like this.

With a leering and wicked smile, the Irish stranger takes one step towards William. "What if I told you of a much more sinful death that would have you wrecking vengeance upon The Lord for all of eternity?" His smile turns into a victorious smirk when he hears William hold his breath a second too long, signifying his interest. "I suppose it would be my business then, now, wouldn't it?"

From the church bell tower William _watches_ for the first time this night as the busy and minuscule lives that are the gifts of God rush around on the land He had gifted them with. They are all blissfully unaware of the cold, hard cruelty their God inflicts on those who deserved it least, punishing mercilessly for no other reason than His own personal pleasure; everyone is but a puppet in God's theatre. Well, William would how Him that he is no puppet anymore. Vengeance upon God; it does sound sweet after what He did to him and his wife and unborn child.

William steps down from the ledge and takes a few paces backwards into the safety of the bell tower. If what this Irish stranger speaks of is true and there is such a sinful death then William will take his offer because a world without his beloved is not a world worth living in, and the more defying his death will be towards God the better.

The Irish man closes some of the distance between him and William. "The name's Angelus." He introduces with a dark, sadistic grin.

* * *

Chapter One: Living In Agony

The '_Welcome_ _to_ _Sunnydale'_ sign, illuminated by two lights hidden within bushes, stands tall and proud before a small park and car lot. Painted in bright and welcoming colours, the sign gives off the impression that the town is an ordinary and peaceful place.

_'What a load of rubbish,'_ Spike thinks to himself with a short chuckle. _'A Hellmouth ordinary and peaceful? Yeah, right! And I breathe,' h_e scoffs at the pathetic attempt of a cover-up for the town and jumps the curb with his car, running the sign down with a thunderous crash and stopping his car on top of it. Cutting the engine of his 1959 black DeSoto and getting out of the car, Spike lights a cigarette and lets it dangle from his lips as he takes in his surroundings.

The town is oddly quiet of demon activity, which is something one would not expect since it resided on a Hellmouth. And yet it is also quiet of human activity, too. There are no crowds of people, no loud noises, and very few cars out.

_'The rumours must be true then,'_ Spike concludes as he observes what little town he can see from where he has yet to move.

After nearly half a decade of The Master- a vampire so old that his demonic, bat-like appearance had become permanent -taking reign over Sunnydale, whose citizens are apparently still too afraid to walk out and about at night, the _newly_called Slayer is who finally vanquished him.

Spike exhales a puff of tobacco smoke that has been burning his dead lungs, and smirks. _'The Slayer,' h_e thinks to himself.

The Slayer, who in this generation is seventeen year- old Buffy Anne Summers, is why Spike is in the one Star Bucks town of Sunnydale, but not for the reason everyone assumes. He wishes not to 'slay' her and make her the third Slayer on his mantle. On the contrary, he wishes that she will instead slay _him_**.** From her reputation of defeating The Master, Spike is sure that this Slayer, Buffy, will be able to do what the last two Slayers could not do; end his torment.

The death that Angelus spoke of that night nearly a hundred and eighteen years ago was not the sort of death that William had in mind. He did not expect to live forever with the memory of what he wanted to forget most of all haunting him every second for the rest of eternity.

Spike had tried suicide once before, as human, and that had brought him where he is now: Living Hell. Not taking his chances with that again he decided long ago that he would go out with dignity. He had done his research, waited to find the most powerful Slayers, but they had not been strong enough. He had let his pain and rage consume his entire being, man and demon.

Spike is different than most vampires. William's nature had been too strong to be forced out completely by the demon when he had been turned. William's humanity still lives, with the demon. They have lived together in one body for so long that they are very nearly apart of one another now. The man and the demon are both what make up who Spike is.

Though it was William who loved and lost Elizabeth, the demon feels what William felt and still feels and too loves and mourns Elizabeth.

_Elizabeth._

All at once, rage and pain stir within him and fill him to his finger tips which curl into the palm of his hands. He tried to bottle the emotions back up but a few drops of it excape through his amber eyes.


End file.
